Primary Inversion (Saga of the Skolian Empire) Paperback (29 page)

He was scanning the speedwalks and lawns. When he saw me, he
raised his hand. As I waved back, he put his hand against the cac-tree. Then he
jerked it back, and I felt the puncture from the needle as if it had jabbed my
own palm. He tried again, this time leaning his weight into the tree without
mishap.

Then he stood up.

I stopped and gaped at him. Then I set off again, striding
across the last few meters that separated us.

He nodded as I came up to him. “Soz.”

“You’re standing up!”

His face relaxed into a smile. “Seems so.”

“How?” No, that sounded stupid. “I mean—I thought—”

He turned and put his free hand around his back, pointing to
the base of his spine. I looked closer and saw a psiphon attached to the mesh.
Its prong was plugged into his spine.

“It goes in above the broken sections,” Rex said. “Connects
to optical threads that run to my brain.”

I peered at the prong. “The doctors said it could hurt you
if they tried any more manipulations with your biomech web.”

“There was risk. But I decided to take it because the
procedure was so simple. All they did was repair the threads and grow another
socket higher up in my spine. I was lucky. It worked.”

He tapped a tiny disk woven into the web at his waist. “When
the chip on this intercepts a signal from my brain, it shunts it to the mesh.”
He took a stiff-legged step away from the cac-tree and held out his hands. “The
mesh moves and takes me with it.”

“You’re walking!” I couldn’t contain my delight.

He grinned, took another jerky step—and lurched to the side.
I tried to grab his arm, but he shoved me off and fell to one knee, his face
knotting with—what? Anger? Pain? Frustration?

Slowly, carefully, he stood up again. For a moment, when he
didn’t say anything, I thought I had offended him past the point where he would
want to see to me. Then he exhaled. “Its action should give me smooth
movements. But I’m still learning how to make it work.”

“You’ll have it obeying you in no time,” I said.

“I hope so.”

Then we stood, looking at each other. I said, “How’s it been
here?” in the same instant Rex said, “How was Foreshires?”

We laughed, a brief explosion of sound that quickly died
away. Then I said, “It was good,” while he said, “Just fine.”

This time my laugh felt more natural. “My mother came to see
me.”

He smiled. “I’ll bet that shook up everyone around you.”

I laughed again, remembering Jarith’s reaction—and immediately
tried to block the memory. But it was too late. The image of Jarith had already
jumped into my mind.

Rex spoke quietly. “It’s all right, Soz.”

“We said goodbye.” I was talking too fast. “He stayed on
Foreshires.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Rex ...” Rex, what? Why did I have to be so stupid and
clumsy with words?

“Want to go for a walk?” Rex asked.

I almost said,
Can you?
But I caught myself before it
came out. “Yes.”

He took a step, his legs jerking forward. Pause. Another
step. I walked next to him, peering down at the mesh. It contracted around his
right leg, carrying that limb forward, then contracted around his left leg and
moved it forward. “That looks more comfortable than mechanical legs.”

“Not as strong, though. I thought about getting the mechanicals.”

I tried to imagine him with his legs sheathed in exterior
bio-mechanicals. It would have given him use of his legs similar to what the
mesh gave him now. “What made you decide against it?”

“I’m not sure.” He took another step. “My body is already so
full of biomech systems. The idea of putting more on the outside just didn’t
feel right.”

“A biosynthetic marvel.”

“What?”

“Someone called me that once. I wished they hadn’t.”

Rex nodded. “Yes.” He motioned toward a bench about ten
meters away from us. “Want to sit?”

“All right.”

It took us a few minutes to reach the bench. When we finally
got there Rex sank down onto it. “I never knew that just walking could take so
much energy.”

I smiled. “Well, you’ve got to do something with all of that
energy.”

As soon as I said it, I wanted to die. It was a joke we had
shared a hundred times before, a reference to his many girlfriends. It had come
out before I thought about it. Gods, I was a dolt. Under the circumstances it
was like hitting him with a sign announcing,
Hey, look how insensitive I am!

Don’t be so sure, Soz. Rex grinned. I have a lot more energy
than you think.

I blinked at him, elated he would trust me with that, but
embarrassed by what he had picked up from me.
Are you eavesdropping?

It’s hard not to, when you shout at me like that.

I reddened. I wasn’t shouting.

You most certainly were. At the top of your lungs.

Pah. I glared at him. You’re as ornery as ever.

He laughed. So my nurse tells me.

“You’re referring to the esteemed Miss Blossom?”

“Miss? What does that mean?”

“It’s an old-fashioned Earth word.” After all, Blossom was
the one who liked Earth words. “It refers to a woman’s marital status.” I
squinted at him. “Or lack thereof.”

“If you want to know, just ask.”

“I just—I don’t mean to pry. It’s none of my business.”

“Would it make a difference to our friendship?”

Yes, damn it. No, that wasn’t fair. Why shouldn’t he have a
lover? Because. Why did he want her and not me?

Rex watched my face. “Soz—she’s what I can deal with right
now.”

Like Jarith. After a long silence I said, “I understand.”
Then I snorted. “But can’t she do something about that awful name?”

“I like it.”

“You would.”

He laughed. “Still the same Soz.”

Despite myself, I smiled. “I guess so.” But I wasn’t.
Forshires had changed everything.

We spent the rest of the afternoon in the park, sitting,
walking, talking. Neither of us mentioned anything more about Jarith, or
Blossom, or Delos. Someday we would sort it out. Right now it was enough just
to have his companionship again.

It was late when I got home. The living room was dark, but
the moment the door opened I knew someone waited inside. My hand dropped to the
belt of my jumpsuit, where I had hidden a needler.

“Lights on,” I said.

The walls and ceiling lights came on, revealing my visitor:
Kurj stood by an inner doorway, his arms folded, his shielded eyes directed
toward me.

I closed the door. “Sir.”

“Why did you send approval for Charissa to get married?”
Kurj asked.

That threw me off. I had expected a game of maneuvers and
stealthy attacks. Not just a simple ‘Why.’

“No one would have ever let that girl get married,” I said. “Not
unless the approval came from one of us.”

“One of who?”

“The Rhon.”

He shrugged. “She could have come to me. I would have taken
care of it.”

“Given your—former relationship with her, she probably didn’t
feel she could ask.”

“But what advantage did you see in helping her?”

Advantage? “I didn’t.”

“Who is Tiller Smith?”

“He worked in the Delos police station. He was the one who
took our first report about Qox.”

“And?”

And what? What was he looking for? “That’s all.”

Kurj raised his eyebrows. “Then why did your spinal node
flag on a book he gave you, overriding your preparations when you were getting
ready to go into battle at Tams?”

What was he doing, keeping notes on everything I did? “It
was a book of poems. It made me think about how combat affects me.”

He stood silently for a moment, like a machine crunching on
the information, analyzing it, filing it. “That doesn’t explain why you became
his patron at the Institute.”

“If I hadn’t, they would have eaten him alive there.”

“Probably.”

“I didn’t want that to happen.”

“I can see the advantage to him. But not to you.”

“I don’t get your point.” I did, in fact, get it perfectly
well. But it angered me enough that I had no intention of acknowledging it. So
what if there had been no advantage to me in helping Tiller or Charissa?

Kurj went to the bookshelf and pulled out
Verses on a Windowpane.
It fell open to the page marked by the Arcade ticket. As he stood reading,
I could almost hear him filing the words in his brain:
Always watching,
always waiting, never satisfied.

He spoke dryly. “Poetry like this would inspire me to send him
as far away as possible.”

A joke? Was Kurj making a joke? No, it couldn’t be. But why
not? He might have a sense of humor buried in there somewhere. Just in case, I
smiled. “It doesn’t thrill me either.”

He put the book back on the shelf. “But you helped him anyway.”

“Yes.”

“Did he please you?”

“If you’re asking did I bed him, the answer is no.”

“Did you want to?”

“No.”

Kurj frowned. “I assume he has no holds over you?”

“Of course he doesn’t.”

“Does Charissa?”

I stared at him. “I’ve never even met the girl, aside from
that day at the hospital.”

“You don’t have to meet people for them to affect your life.”

“You’re looking for something that isn’t there. I helped
them because I felt like it. Not for any other reason.”

Kurj spoke quietly. “Then you’re a fool.”

“I don’t see it that way.”

“Why?

This was getting stranger and stranger. I felt more like I
was being interviewed for a job than called to task for my actions. “There was
no disadvantage in it either. On balance, then, it’s better to have a citizenry
that is as satisfied as possible with their lives. It makes them more
productive.”

“It isn’t your job to see to the happiness of every Imperial
citizen.”

“These were situations where I could make a difference without
inconvenience.”

“Tiller Smith isn’t an Imperial citizen,” Kurj said. “Not
only is there no advantage in training him, but it could be our disadvantage.
He will take his knowledge back to the Allieds.”

“Not if we give him reason to stay here. Then we get use of
his talent instead of the Allieds.” Who wouldn’t know what to do with it
anyway.

Kurj considered me. “Very well.”

I waited, but he said no more. That was it. No warnings to
leave off with his personal life, no reprimands, no nothing. Instead, he went
to an armchair and settled into it. Then he motioned me toward the couch.

I sat down. Kurj’s head turned toward me, but his inner lids
remained over his eyes like gold, opaque shields. He waited there, silent and
appraising, saying nothing. I shifted in my seat. What was going on?

I want to take no risks, Kurj thought.

I almost jumped up again. His thought was remarkably clear
and strong, suggesting he had prepared in depth for this silent discussion. But
why?

Security,
Kurj thought.

He already had the best security in the empire. What was
there about Tiller Smith and Charissa Deirdre that was so sensitive it could
only be discussed in a face-to-face psilink?

This has nothing to do with them, Kurj thought.

I formed a picture in my mind, showing him Helda giving me
the message to return to Diesha.

Yes,
Kurj thought.

What’s wrong?

He paused. We have a guest.

That made no sense. I already knew he was the only one staying
at the palace.

Not that kind of guest.
His thoughts had an odd
flavor, a taste of triumph.

Who?
I asked.

The smile that came onto his face brought to mind the look
of an executioner who took a grim satisfaction in his job. Then he showed me an
image of the man who was our “guest.”

Jaibriol Qox.

My first reaction was a reflex I had coded into my spinal
node, a program set to run whenever I heard Jaibriol’s name. My mind initiated
a procedure that hid my reactions, selectively blocking in a manner designed to
be inconspicuous. But my thoughts rocketed wildly: how had they caught
Jaibriol, where was he, what did they know?

Even with the node working furiously, I couldn’t hide the intensity
of my response.

So instead of trying to suppress my reactions, I reorganized
them, leaving only appropriate ones where Kurj could input them.
The Highton
Heir is here?
I asked.
At Headquarters?

Kurj watched me, interpreting, filing.
Yes. He is ours
now.

But how?

He was in a ship, alone, without a single Solo or Escort,
traveling in inversion at several trillion times LS. Kurj leaned forward. One
of our supraluminal sentries registered the ship and sent notice through the
Net. The Sixth Squadron threw him into stasis and dragged him here.

I stared at him. What was Jaibriol Qox doing alone, without
a single guard?

We don’t know. He’s told us nothing. The shields over Kurj’s
eyes glinted. Yet.

I didn’t want to imagine what the interrogators were doing
to Jaibriol. I had already been in the place they wanted to invade; that night
on Delos when Jaibriol and I melded, he had let me enter the innermost sanctums
of his mind. I knew what his interrogators would soon discover, if they hadn’t
found it already. Blocks even stronger than a Jagernaut’s guarded the Highton
Heir. On Delos, for me, he had relaxed those defenses. But if his were anything
like mine, then under duress his conditioning would take over, stopping him
from lowering his barriers even if he wanted to do it.

I had tried to forget why his blocks so easily dissolved for
me, tried to forget the longing in his voice, the feel of his arms. But one
thought of it and I wanted him again. Like knew like. I remembered him and my
pulse raced. Even though he was the Highton Heir, even though he was one
quarter Aristo. I wanted a Rhon mate. I wanted
him.
Damn. Damn!